What You Want
by defenestratingfandoms
Summary: Dating a Double-Oh Agent is not what Q expected. 00Q.
1. Chapter 1

Q opened up the case, looked at the empty indentation inside, and sighed. The case had been specifically designed for a gun and there should have been a gun inside – indeed, there had been a gun in there when he'd handed the case over. It wasn't just any gun either; it was specially coded to 007, ensuring that only he could fire it. It was the second such gun that Q had made for 007, and the second such gun that 007 had failed to return.

"What happened this time, Bond?" he asked.

"Nessie ate it," 007 said, giving him a half-smile.

Q sighed again. "One, you weren't anywhere near Scotland. Two, even if you were I refuse to believe that a mythical sea monster ate my gun."

"Well the last one was eaten by a dragon, so I had to make this one sound just as good."

Q closed the case. The gun was likely lying at the bottom of the Mediterranean. "If you don't stop losing my expensive equipment I'll start sending you out with rocks and a slingshot."

"I guarantee nothing," Bond smiled.

Ignoring the smile, Q turned back to his computer. He had more important things to do than exchange witty banter with the infamous 007. Most agents returned their equipment – or lack thereof – and left, but over the past months Bond was spending longer and longer in his office. Q didn't want to think that there was any ulterior motive behind this, so he assumed that Bond was simply enjoying pissing him off. Even if what Bond was doing could be construed as flirting it didn't matter. Bond would flirt with a glass of water if he thought he'd get a reaction.

Q suddenly became aware that Bond had not left the room. In fact, Bond was now standing almost directly behind him. He hadn't heard him move, and it was only Bond's breath on his neck that made him notice.

"Dinner?" Bond asked quietly.

Q stopped typing, but didn't say anything.

"Is that a very quiet '_yes'_?"

"We're co-workers," Q replied, almost automatically. "It wouldn't be proper."

"But it's not against the rules."

There was no rule against dating a co-worker, but Q knew how it would look to everyone else in MI6. They'd have a field day gossiping about the two of them. Q enjoyed being feared and respected, and he worried he would lose that if his personal life became open season.

"I'm hearing excuses, not I'm not hearing a '_no'_," Bond said.

When Q didn't respond, he placed a hand on Q's shoulder and turned him around. Q stared up into Bond's sharp-blue eyes before quickly looking at the floor. Bond put a hand under his chin, lifted his face, and kissed him.

It wasn't the kiss that Q had been expecting from 007 – it was gentle and soft. Q rose up on the balls of his feet and placed his arms around Bond, leaning into the kiss.

When the kiss ended Bond asked again.

"I'm done at 7," Q breathlessly responded.


	2. Chapter 2

Ever since Q began at MI6, he'd spent more time in the building than anyone thought was healthy. He practically opened and closed the office; and some of the Q-branch minions doubted that he even had an apartment to go home to. So when Q left the office at 7pm on the dot everyone noticed. Nobody had the courage to say anything to him – a fact for which Q was thankful.

He had agreed to meet Bond so that nobody would see the two of them leave together. It seemed pointless to try and fool an intelligence agency, but the longer he could keep everyone guessing, the better.

Bond had chosen a quiet pub in central London. At first he had suggested an upscale restaurant, but Q had made him choose somewhere else. Unlike the Double-Ohs Q didn't wear a suit 24/7. And even if he had time to go back to his apartment and change, he didn't own anything suitable.

When Q entered the pub he spotted Bond sitting at a table near the back. His mind flashed back to the kiss that they had shared in his office, but Q shook off the memory. He was not going to be _that_ easy of a conquest, dammit.

"Got here early?" he asked, sitting down across from Bond. It wasn't surprising – the Double-Ohs came and went as they pleased.

"I thought I'd made sure we had a table," Bond replied. "They don't take reservations, unlike some places."

Q was aware that Bond's suit stood out in this pub almost as much as his sweater and sneakers would have at another restaurant.

Bond all ready had a pint in front of him, so Q ordered one for himself. As he waited for it to arrive he realized that he had no idea what to talk about. He thought that Bond might start talking, but Bond simply stared at him with a satisfied smirk on his face.

When Q's pint arrived he took a long drink.

"You're nervous," Bond said.

"You're observant," Q remarked.

"I like you nervous. You lose most of your condescending tone."

"I'm only condescending if it's required."

"You're always that way with me."

"Because it's always required."

As the night went on, Q found himself relaxing more and more. It might have had something to do with the amount of alcohol he had to drink. Bond drank like a fish – a probable side-effect of being a Double-Oh agent – and Q had tried to keep up. He should have known better, but he was too busy drinking to be logical.

Eventually Q became less concerned about what his boss or the minions or the other Double-Ohs might think, and more concerned about the fact that he was on an actual date with James Bond. It had been a long time since he'd been on a date with _anyone_. Work had taken up his life and he was finally realizing that maybe there were things more important than work.

The alcohol was making him feel giddy, so Q decided that it was time to stop before he drank himself sick. Besides, the responsible part of his brain said, they both had work in the morning.

"May I drive you home?" Bond asked.

"You've been drinking," Q said, trying not to slur. "Shouldn't drink and drive. That's what they adverts tell us."

"I stopped drinking a while ago," he replied, holding up his glass. "This is ginger ale."

Q felt like an idiot for a few seconds until he realized that Bond had deliberately tricked him. "You could have told me."

"You didn't have to keep drinking. I'm parked outside."

Q almost refused, but then he realized that in this state of intoxication the Tube would be the most annoying place ever created. Also, he wasn't sure if he'd he able to find his way home. For all he knew, he'd read the map wrong and end up in Old Harlow.

It wasn't until Bond parked the car that Q realized that he was nowhere near his apartment.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"My place. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"

"I'm not sleeping with you!" Q blurted out. He quickly blushed – so much for playing it cool.

"It's just a cup of tea," Bond smirked.

In the interest of overcompensating, Q agreed to go into Bond's apartment for one cup of tea – just one. This was their first date, and even if Q had been quietly pining for Bond for months there was no way he was going to sleep with Bond tonight. One cup of tea, which would help sober him up, and then he'd be on his way.

That reasoning was why Q was so surprised when he woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed with Bond curled around him.


	3. Chapter 3

Q allowed himself 15 seconds to enjoy the proximity of Bond's warm body before jumping out of bed. He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and looked at his arm where his watch should have been. What time was it? Was he late for work? Where were his clothes?

"Going somewhere?" Bond muttered, opening his eyes. In that moment Q realized what the phrase 'bedroom eyes' meant.

"It's a work day," Q said. "I have to get to work."

"You have time."

"How do you know? How do you know what time it is? Don't you have any bloody clocks in this room? And where is my watch?"

Bond laughed. "Trust me – you have time. Now, stop worrying and come back here."

Q pulled on his trousers and looked around for his shirt.

"Living room," Bond said helpfully, shifting between the light blue satin sheets. The sheets only covered the bottom half of his body, showing off his sculpted torso. There were scars along Bond's chest and stomach, but the scars made him less perfect and more desirable.

Q hated how much he wanted slag off work and crawl between those sheets. "Do I really have time?" he asked in a low voice

"You have forty minutes before you have to be at MI6. It takes me 15 minutes to drive to work, so that's 25 minutes of free time. Not sure about you, but I can be ready in 5. Then again, if you'll be wanting a shower, perhaps we should start now."

Q backed up, stumbled over the rug and almost fell down. "Shower?"

"I'm assuming you don't want to arrive at work smelling of sex. I only have one shower and there's two of us, so it would save time…" Bond gave him a wink.

Q thought about the iron constitution he'd had last night when he told himself he wasn't going to sleep with Bond. That idea had obviously been thrown out the window at some point last night. Wouldn't be smart to go chasing after it.

Q took off his trousers. "As long as I'm not late for work."

* * *

They didn't talk much on their way to MI6. Then again, they hadn't talked much since the pub. Every time Q looked over at Bond he found himself tongue-tied. He wanted to carry on a normal conversation, but all he could think about were Bond's hand on his thigh, Bond's mouth on his neck…

Bond smirked the entire drive to MI6, as if he knew what thoughts were currently inhabiting Q's mind.

When Bond pulled his car into a parking space, a thought struck Q. He wanted to voice it, but had no idea how to do so without sounding needy or pathetic. He'd all ready done enough in the past 24 hours to undermine his authority, and Q wanted to walk out of this with some kind of self-respect.

He wanted to know whether this was a one-time thing.

Bond exited the car, and Q followed suit.

"See you around, Quartermaster," Bond said before walking away.

As Q watched him go he realized that he knew the answer to his unasked question. Bond was Bond. The man positively reeked of promiscuity. If Q was lucky enough to get a second date, he'd quickly go out and purchase a lottery ticket.

He glanced up at the cameras that were installed in the parking garage. Anyone with access to those cameras would be able to see him getting out of Bond's car. From there the story would spread.

Q steeled himself and headed to his office.

* * *

By the time Q reached his office everyone in MI6 knew about him and Bond. When he walked past the minions they all smiled and avoided looking directly at him. He'd have to make an example of the first person to voice anything regarding this matter.

Bond was leaving for Paris this afternoon, so Q kept himself occupied by making sure that he had everything ready for Bond's departure. It was supposed to be a simple trip – gather information from one of their contacts, maybe do a little spying – but Q would bet that Bond would somehow turn it into an extravagant performance of mayhem.

At half-past ten he left his office to make a cup of tea. The minions stared but nobody said anything. In the staff room Q found his cup in its usual spot and turned on the kettle. As he waited for the water to boil he realized that he was still being stared at. There were a handful of people in the staff room and they were all smiling as if they knew. Most of them had good enough sense to turn away when he looked at them, but one person – 009, of course – was looking straight at him.

Q thought about telling him to sod off, but he instead turned back to the kettle. Why was it taking so bloody long for water to boil? _A watched pot never boils_, the saying went, but Q knew that it was ridiculous. Provided that it had the right amount of heat applied to it, a watched pot had to boil at some time.

A mug was placed on the counter, a few inches away from his own. Q looked up to see that 009 was now standing next to him.

"I'd ask if you were having a good morning, but I think I already know the answer," he said.

"Then don't bloody ask," Q responded. Why did every Double-Oh agent have to be so damn cocky? Why couldn't this damn kettle boil?

"Would you mind making me a cup while you're at it?"

"Yes, Taggert, I would mind. I'm not craft services."

"Oh now, we both know that you don't mind at all," 009 said, winking at him.

Q seriously contemplated hitting him, but he couldn't deliberately initiate an altercation with a field agent. Also, he would never win in a fight against 009 and losing would only humiliate him even more.

The kettle finally boiled and Q quickly poured the water into his mug, nearly spilling it in his haste to leave the room as soon as possible. As he walked past 009 he tried not to pay the agent any attention, but the agent was still not discouraged.

"Nice shampoo," 009 called out as Q walked to the door. "Is it new?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Where's my Walther?" Bond asked.

He had showed up at Q's office just after 11am to pick up his equipment. Q had spent the moments before his arrival steeling himself for anything. Would Bond flirt with him? Would it be business only? Would Bond push him up against the wall and re-enact this morning? He should have been doing more productive tasks, but he couldn't get Bond off his mind.

"As I recall," Q began, "it was eaten by a mythical sea monster which was on holiday down South."

"Q…" Bond began threateningly.

"There's nothing wrong with this Beretta. You used to use one quite frequently in the old days."

"But now I use a Walther." He picked up the gun. "And there's no coding on this one."

Q gave Bond a flat look. "This is a simple re-con assignment. And I told you last time that if you keep losing my equipment I'll stop giving you those fancy new toys. Heaven forbid that I make you a new gun and it gets eaten by a gargoyle."

Bond smiled. "That was exactly what I was planning on saying."

"Hence the Beretta. Now, do you have any more comments regarding your equipment?"

"Do you?"

Q paused. He was not going to get fluster by Bond's equipment. "I've put everything in order – it's up to you to make the remarks, the way I see it."

Bond nodded. He took the case and walked out of the office. "See you around, Quartermaster."

Q wanted to throw something at Bond, but refrained. Dealing with Double-Ohs on a good day was infuriating, but dealing with Bond was going to be a special kind of hell. If he had known what Bond would be like, he'd never have agreed to go out with him.

…That was a lie and Q knew it. He'd like to think that he would have the ability to turn Bond down, but the truth was that he didn't want to. One night with Bond was better than no night.

If only Bond wasn't such a colossal wanker.

* * *

Once 007 had left for Paris, Q was finally able to be productive. He stayed late at work, finishing up a few projects that he should have spent the morning working on. By the time he left the office, all the minions had all ready gone home.

Nobody had said a word to him – other than 009. He could tell that R had a lot that she wanted to say, but thankfully she'd kept her mouth shut.

As he rode the Tube home, he thought about the previous evening. The memories had mostly been blurred by how much he'd drank, but there were some parts that were extremely clear. Those memories were more than enough company for him that night.

The next morning he arrived at the office before anyone else. The fact that he didn't have to deal with any knowing looks made his morning that much better.

His afternoon was taken up by 006's operation in Peru. It had started out as expected, but then took a strange turn when the Americans suddenly became involved. His mind was preoccupied with maps and safe-houses and trying to calculate how much money 006 was costing them. Gods, those Double-Oh agents were expensive.

When the problem in Peru had been sorted out – at least for now – Q was finally able to return to his office. His mug of tea was sitting on his desk, but it was ice cold.

"Message for you," a voice said.

He looked up to see Tanner in the doorway, holding out a piece of paper.

"It came hours ago, but you were busy with Peru."

Q took the paper from Tanner and scanned the message. Bond had missed his train out of Paris and his whereabouts were currently unknown. This meant one of two things – either Bond had completely arsed up the mission and was in hiding, or he had decided to take a few days of unofficial vacation.

"Do nothing until we hear from him. If he wants help he knows how to contact us."

"I'll spread the word," Tanner said before leaving.

Q picked up his mug and headed to the staff room. A few days without Bond might do him some good.

* * *

The day had winded down and most of the employees had left. Q was at his desk, working on weapon designs and enjoying some peace and quiet.

"Night, sir," R called out as she left. She still had that knowing smile on her face, but at least she wasn't voicing any of the thoughts that were in her mind.

Q looked up from his computer and nodded in her direction. Then he turned back to his work, losing himself in practical applications.

He was thrown out of his work by a knock on his door. Over an hour had passed since R's departure, and most of the other employees must have left by now.

A frown crossed his face as he saw who had knocked. It was Taggert, leaning in his doorway with that stupid cocky smile still on his face.

There had been another unpleasant meeting between them when Q had left to replenish his tea. Q had been leaving the staff room when his path had been crossed by Taggert.

"Q," he had greeted.

"009," Q curtly replied.

"I hear that Bond's stuck in Paris. Too bad, eh?"

Q had ignored the remark and walked around Taggert. He didn't like the way that 009 looked at him and he didn't want to spend any more time than necessary around that man. He didn't know why Taggert was still in the building or why he was here – he just knew that he wanted Taggert gone.

"May I help you?" Q asked.

"I noticed you've stayed late."

"I always stay late. Some of us in MI6 actually work."

Taggert stepped into the office, shutting the door behind him.

"I asked if I could help you," Q said firmly. "If the answer is 'no', then I suggest that you move on."

"Now, now, Quartermaster. Play nice."

Q had had enough of him. He stood up from his desk and pointed at the door. "Out. Now."

Taggert walked up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back against the wall.

"What –?" Q barely had the word out before Taggert's mouth was on his. Q tried to push him off, but Taggert was stronger than him and held his ground. His hands moved to Q's trousers and Q found the strength to shove him a step back.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" he said, his voice coming out much more shrill than usual.

"Don't play coy, Quartermaster. I know you've got a taste for Double-Ohs."

"I –" Taggert's mouth was on his again, his tongue pushing into Q's mouth. His hands were at Q's trousers again, deftly undoing the button and zipper. Q tried to fight him, but his hits were more like slaps.

Q felt panic rising inside him. Dammit, this was his office – he should be safe here! He should not feel this damn helpless in his own damn office!

"Ahem!"

Taggert and Q both looked at the door. Standing, watching them with something close to a frown on his face, was Bond.

"Guess I'll leave you two to it," Bond said.

Q tried to speak, but Taggert covered his mouth.

"Shut the door on your way out," he said, smiling wickedly.

Q stared at Bond, willing him to look at the situation and help him escape Taggert, but Bond simply turned and walked away.

The door shut and every bit of Q's hope left with Bond.


	5. Chapter 5

After Taggert left, Q locked the door and moved to the far corner of the room. Once his back was against the wall, he slid to the ground, his eyes focused on the door. His right hand clutched a pen, ready to use it as a weapon if someone were to pick the lock and make it inside.

His favourite mug lay in pieces on the floor. There had been a tussle – Q had even managed to land a weak hit at Taggert's face – and the casualty had been his mug. His bruises would heal, but his mug would never. It was silly, but he was almost more upset about the mug.

As he sat in the corner, feeling the hard wall against his back, he pictured the look on Bond's face. Bond could have helped – _should_ have helped – but he didn't. Bond had chosen to walk away.

Q desperately wanted to shower, but the thought of leaving his office made him ill. Inside his office, with the door locked, he was safe. Outside, Taggert might be waiting for him.

He knew that he was the youngest man to be made Quartermaster, but he had never felt immature or unqualified. In this moment, however, he felt very young.

* * *

The noise outside the office picked up. Someone yelled to someone else, and then there was laughter. Q didn't know how much time had passed, but it was likely morning. That night he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of his door. He didn't sleep or move all night.

Slowly he pulled himself into a standing position. His legs were stiff and weak, so he braced himself against the wall for a minute. Once he felt strong enough he moved to his desk, ignoring the broken mug.

There was a knock at his door, but he ignored it. He took out his work laptop and placed it in a black shoulder bag. Someone called his name through the door, but he didn't answer.

He slung the bag across his chest and took a deep breath. Then he fixed himself up to his regular posture, put his usual unimpressed look on, and walked out of his office.

R was standing just outside his office. "Sir," she began, before Q cut her off.

"I'm working from home today," he said, not breaking his stride.

"But Peru –"

"Good day R."

He walked straight out of the building, refusing to look at anyone. Nobody tried to stop him or talk to him. On the Tube he stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with anyone. He held up this strong demeanour until he reached his flat.

Once his front door was shut and locked, his eyes lost their sharpness. He felt his shoulders moving forward as his arms wrapped around his chest, holding himself tightly as if he expected to break into pieces any second.

Carefully, he put one foot in front of the other. As he passed the couch he threw the shoulder bag onto it, then walked into the bathroom. He was in desperate need of a long, hot shower.

* * *

A heavy blanket was wrapped around Q's shoulders as he huddled over the laptop. When he'd come out of the shower there had been a message waiting for him on his phone. Tanner was calling because there'd been another problem in Peru and he needed Q's help. Q turned on the computer and called Tanner to see what the situation was.

Tanner jumped right into the issue – those Americans had gotten in the way again – and Q put his mobile on speakerphone so that he could work on the problem with Tanner. It was frustrating to not have all the resources of MI6 at his fingertips – not to mention that wonderful big screen – but Q felt safe in his home.

When the crisis had been averted, Tanner asked Q what he was doing working from home today. Q promptly ended the call.

His hair was still wet, water dampening the blanket, but Q made no effort to dry it. He sipped his tea, kept one eye on the door and tried not to think of anything.


	6. Chapter 6

Bond was miserable. Last night he'd gotten drunk in his apartment for no good reason. He hadn't slept well, and he had what felt suspiciously like a hangover.

He'd have blown off work if it wasn't for one thing. He still had to return his damn equipment to Q. He'd tried to do that last night, but Q had been _busy_ with Taggert.

The throbbing in Bond's head increased. He had always disliked Taggert, but now the thought of the man sickened him. Was it because Taggert had been with Q? Was it because Bond actually liked Q? Bond had slept with many people, but Q was different. Most of the others had simply been conquests.

Of course it would be ridiculous for him to start dating Q. A Double-Oh dating the Quartermaster? It was unheard of.

So why should he be upset that Q had been with another agent? Q could do whatever he damn well pleased. Except Bond hadn't expected him to be that kind of a person. He had thought more highly of Q.

But Q had disappointed him. And with Taggert, of all people.

Bond clutched his case and walked faster. He would go to Q's office, return the equipment, and then forget about Q. He made a mental note to keep intimacy out of sex from now on.

The door to Q's office was shut, but Bond didn't care. He'd already walked in uninvited – a second time wouldn't matter. He placed a hand on the doorknob, but a voice stopped him.

"He's not in there," R said.

"He's always in his office."

"Not today. He's left. He's working from home."

Bond stopped. Q _never_ worked from home, not even when he'd been a minion himself.

R walked up to Bond. "He didn't look well, honestly, when he came out of his office this morning. Looked a little sickly. I thought he might have caught the flu or something."

"The flu?"

"Of course," R continued, ignoring him, "if he was ill, why'd he bother coming in at all? Nobody saw him arrive, so he must have been in very early. And what if he hadn't been ill when he arrived, but became ill whilst in the building? What if he'd caught a virus here – what if someone had planted a virus?" R shook her head. "Since we must be constantly vigilant towards bio-terrorism, so we decided to look at the security tape to see what condition he'd been in when he arrived. Funny thing, though, is that he never left last night."

Bond had a feeling that he knew where this was going. They must have gone back far enough to see him.

"We checked the tape all the way back to last night. The time-line we've worked out so far is this: Q entered his office at 6pm last night. Most of the office left between 7 and 9pm. At 11:53pm 009 entered. Five minutes later you opened the door, but did not enter. You left shortly afterwards. It was 1:08am when 009 left the office. Q didn't leave until 8:13am." R gave him a stern look. "There are no cameras in Q's office, so we can only speculate what went on between him and 009. If you'd like to tell us what you witnessed last night it would help us greatly."

"I've nothing to say on the matter," Bond said sternly.

"After Q left we looked in the office to make sure there was nothing harmful inside. We didn't find anything suspicious, except Q's mug was on the floor – shattered. Q loved that mug, you know."

Bond didn't say anything. He was thinking about last night and what he'd seen. Even in the throes of passion Q would care about his mug. He'd been overly cautious about his watch the other night, despite the amount he'd had to drink, placing it carefully on the end table. Surely he wouldn't have done anything to damage his mug.

When he came out of his thoughts, R was still staring at him. Bond frowned and crossed his arms.

R shrugged. "Stupid idea, honestly, trying to crack a Double-Oh, but I had to try." She turned away and started towards her desk, but then stopped and looked back at him. "Then again, maybe I'm over-reacting. If 009 had done anything bad to our Quartermaster last night, I'm sure you would have put a stop to it. Right?"


	7. Chapter 7

Q stared at the blank computer screen. His mug was empty, but he couldn't be bothered to stand up and make another cup. He considered the idea of investing in a tea-cart, but there was no room for such an item amongst the papers and clothes and general mess that was his living space.

MI6 hadn't contacted him again. Q hoped that the office was running fine without him. If the office ran well enough, maybe they'd let him stay home indefinitely. He'd never have to go back there again, never have to see Taggert...

Q thought about what his life would be like without MI6. He'd worked hard to get that job and he didn't want to give it up because of some arsehole Double-Oh agent. It wouldn't be fair if he ran away.

The last thing he wanted to do was face Taggert, but he'd have to do it sometime. Sometime that wasn't today.

There was a knock on his front door and he stiffened, pulling the blanket around him. "Who is it?" he called out. If it was Taggert he'd have no qualms about using the kitchen knife he'd placed nearby.

"It's me. Can I come in?"

_Bond_. Q thought about the look that had been on Bond's face when he'd walked in last night. He wished he could erase that memory from his mind permanently.

"Q, let me in."

"Go away."

There was silence. Q kept his eyes on the door.

A minute later the lock clicked and the door swung open. Without realizing it, Q grabbed the knife and held it between him and the door.

Bond looked at Q and the knife. "Jesus... I..."

"Shut the door. Preferably with yourself on the other side." Q put the knife down and huddled into the couch. He'd have to get another deadbolt.

Bond shut the door but he stayed in the flat. He stood near the door, looking at Q.

"I fucked up, didn't I?" he said.

Q stared at him, confused.

"I should have been more communicative, less mysterious. I let you think that I didn't give a shit, but I do." Bond sighed. "When I saw you with Taggert I thought that you were treating me like I'd treated you. I didn't notice..."

Q looked down at his lap. He heard Bond's footsteps as he came closer.

"I didn't notice that Taggert was... That he..."

Tears started to fill Q's eyes. He shut his eyes and pulled the blanket tighter.

"Q..."

"I could take you being a prat, or a megalomaniac," Q said softly. "I could take the staring and the looks and the fact that everyone knew. I could handle everything, except... Except you left. You were there and you saw, and you left. And then..."

The tears started coming. The last thing Q wanted was for Bond to see him cry, but he couldn't help it.

"I keep thinking about what would have happened if you'd stopped him, but you didn't. You saw him and you saw me and you let it happen."

"Q, I didn't know, honestly. I was jealous and I didn't stop to think."

"Jealous? Bond, if you were half as smart as you pretend to be you'd have realized that it was only you. It was always only you."

Bond wrapped his arms around Q and held him tightly. The Quartermaster felt very small. "Please give me another chance."

"I don't know if I can."

"Q, I don't want to lose you over something like this. I was a fool and I'll be kicking myself until the end of time for not realizing what was really going on. If I could invent a time machine I'd go back to that moment and save you ten times over. I'd never intentionally hurt you, you have to believe that."

Q didn't say anything, but he didn't break out of Bond's hold. As much as he wanted to be angry he found that his anger was slipping away.

"I don't know if I'll ever really forgive you," he said quietly.

"I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for being so stupid," Bond said, gently laying a kiss on Q's head. "But from this point on things between us will be different. And I swear to god that the next time I see Taggert I'm going to make it so that he has to eat through a straw for a year."

Q gave a soft laugh and relaxed a bit. "Actually, I have a few ideas on the matter."


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning Bond and Q arrived at MI6 together. Q still felt some trepidation about returning to the building, but he was not going to let Taggert ruin his life.

The elevator door opened onto the main floor, but Q didn't move. Bond took him by the hand and gently pulled him into the hallway. Q laced his fingers into Bond's and walked with him towards his office. As they walked people stared, but Q didn't mind. He said that he could deal with the staring and he was telling the truth.

They were almost to his office when they ran into Taggert.

Taggert looked at the two of them and smirked. "Are you two making it official or something?"

"Fuck off," Bond said angrily. He took a step forward, but Q put out an arm to stop him. Q took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"I have something for you, 009," he said.

"Do you?" Taggert said, winking.

Q's left hand shot out, the tazer in it connecting with Taggert's stomach. The jolt was enough to send the agent to the floor.

"You set it quite high," Bond remarked.

"You can never be too careful with a Double-Oh." Q looked down at Taggert's twitching body.

"Finished?"

"Not yet." Q aimed the tazer at Taggert's crotch and gave another jolt. He smiled slightly. "Now I'm done."

Bond took Q's right hand in his and they continued to walk. Q's steps were definitely lighter now, his hesitation less.

Before opening the door, Q prepared himself. There were a lot of good memories and then one really bad memory. He also remembered the loss of his mug.

"Surprise," Bond whispered in his ear as he opened the door. Q looked around and saw that a mug exactly like his favourite was on his desk, next to his keyboard.

"Did you...?"

Bond nodded. "I can't erase the past, but I thought that if you had some good memories of this room you'd feel more comfortable in it. So any time you want to make a good memory, just let me know."

Q placed his arms around Bond's neck and kissed him.


End file.
